


Games

by Muzik3



Series: Scomiche Oneshots [3]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, I guess there's a good ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muzik3/pseuds/Muzik3
Summary: Halloween doesn't go as planned.





	

Scott clumsily shoved his card key in the slot and half-stumbled into the hotel suite. It was dark, save for a dim light coming from Mitch's room. He had no idea why Mitch had left the Halloween party so early – his sober October was over, he'd said earlier that day, and he couldn't wait to get drunk. But it was only midnight when Scott realized that Mitch was nowhere to be found, and Kirstie told him that he'd taken an uber back to the hotel, that he was tired and his feet hurt.

It wasn't right. He'd barely been able to speak to Mitch at the party, just made sure they got some photo booth picture with some of their friends, and even that was a struggle. He hadn't even been able to get him alone for a few best friend selfies, him constantly being swept away by Kirstie, then Esther, then Nicole. It almost seemed like Mitch was trying to be everywhere but by his side. Scott's stomach had been in knots all night keeping an eye on him while trying to engage and have fun, and when he realized Mitch was gone completely without him even noticing, he really started to worry.

On his way back to the hotel, he'd gone over what he possibly could have done to alienate Mitch like this. This morning he was fine, wasn't he? He thought about the last couple of days, and automatically his mind sent him further back to Singapore last month, where he had celebrated his birthday and Mitch was there the whole time, hugging him, cheering him on when they brought the giant champagne bottle to his mouth, telling him how happy and proud he was of him all night. He remembered the Snapchat Mitch had posted to his story that same week, when they were spooning and reminiscing and Scott, overwhelmed with affection and possibly a little bit inebriated, crept a little bit closer than normal and had pressed his lips against Mitch's neck softly. He knew Mitch had smiled, and then he had asked Scott to do it again while he took the picture and consequently killed the entire fanbase.

Maybe he had gone a little bit too far that night. He thought it over again, but nothing indicated that that was where the problems started, right? They were fine, they were joking and teasing like they always were. Of course, ever since they moved to the new place and they had discussed using their ship as a way to gain attention for their upcoming original music, it had become a little more... noticeable? Maybe that wasn't the right word. But after they agreed that it was a good idea to play into it even more, Scott felt more comfortable touching and teasing and playing around with Mitch. More than ever. And not only that had changed, Mitch had begun teasing him back much more than he used to. It was something he'd never done before, not like that. Scott was sure that it was just because he was single again, and Mitch probably felt like that sort of stuff was more acceptable now there wasn't a third party involved. It felt nice, and comfortable, and Scott enjoyed it a lot, so much that even when no cameras were involved, he'd do it. He'd give him more hugs than normal, he'd use corny pickup lines on him to make him laugh and maybe even a little bit flustered. All the things he'd do in front of the camera, he would do behind the scenes. And Mitch teased him back just as hard, biting his lip and batting his lashes, shooting him glances and calling him sexy. The last couple of months really were great for Scott's self-esteem.

But now... ever since they released Bad 4 Us, Mitch seemed to have taken a few steps back. Even that same evening when they Periscoped with their fans and talked about the song, Mitch had not been as responsive. It had resulted in Scott pushing a little bit more than normal, just because he felt that he needed to make up for Mitch's lack of enthusiasm. He had written it off as Mitch being just tired – he liked to go to bed early and they had woken up pretty early that day too – but now he wasn't so sure. In the last two weeks, Mitch had been absent. He was there, but he didn't respond the way he had before. For a few days Scott thought it was just the sober October thing. Scott was drinking a lot after all, and it probably wasn't as fun to hang around with a bunch of drunk people if you were sober yourself. But he saw the snaps from the tour bus when Scott was still backstage drinking and enjoying the company of his LA-based friends before they left for tour. Mitch wasn't drinking, but he certainly was having a lot of fun. Scott almost felt like Mitch was pushing him away.

During the day nothing seemed wrong initially. They talked normally, they laughed and joked around, but then Mitch had stopped the teasing – or no, he hadn't stopped teasing him, instead he had started teasing everyone else along with teasing him. Scott was no longer the only one receiving his attention, and saying he didn't mind would've been a lie. He minded that the cute boy who tagged along to that drag show a couple days ago got more touches and more attention than him. He minded that when he bought Mitch another sparkling water, he had taken it off his hands, sipped it for a little bit, and then left it on the table while he went off dancing with that other boy, not glancing back at him for even a second. He minded a lot.

So something was wrong. Something was off between them, and though tonight would not have been the best night to confront Mitch about it, especially in the state he was currently in, he couldn't put it off any longer. Mitch had been ignoring him, rejecting his playful advances that had always been inside jokes to them, and made him feel like he no longer was the number one Mitch had always claimed him to be. It had to be fixed.

"Mitchy?" he called out softly, wondering if Mitch had already fallen asleep and not wanting to wake him up accidentally. He pushed his bedroom door open a little further, and saw that the light was coming from the small bathroom, where he could just see Mitch's back as he stood facing the mirror. He saw the heeled boots tossed on the floor, Mitch's skinny legs still enveloped in those spidery looking tights, the bat dress he was wearing still hugging his body. He had looked beautiful tonight, and Scott's heart sank when he realized he never even told him so.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Mitch answered after a few seconds, his voice clear and strong. Scott blinked a few times, letting the words sink in, before he made his way to the tiny bathroom and leaned in the doorway. Mitch had pulled the long, feathery lashes off already, and held a face wipe in his hand to clean off the rest of the makeup, but he halted when pale blue eyes caught dark brown ones in the mirror.

"I..." Scott started, but his previous determination to get everything out on the table diminished quickly when he saw the darkness in Mitch's eyes, and the slight pressing of his lips together, and the clenched jaw, and suddenly he was overcome with sadness and guilt. There had to have been a reason Mitch wasn't talking to him about what was wrong. Mitch would always tell him everything, and not talking about this had to mean that he didn't want to. Scott hadn't thought of that before, he never even considered it an option. His heart, that had already sunk so far, started cracking under the weight of his worries. "I don't know what I did wrong." He had wanted to say it clearly, resolutely – he had wanted to sound strong, but he didn't. His throat had gone dry and his voice had left him, leaving nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"You did nothing wrong." He still sounded as clear as ever, his voice cutting like a knife through the silence surrounding them. He put down the wipe and turned around, leaning against the sink, now meeting Scott's eyes directly. Scott tried to swallow, but his tongue suddenly felt thick and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and he needed to blink or his lenses which already were on their last legs would give up on him, but he couldn't, and his heart needed to calm down or he would start hyperventilating and pass out, and the muscles in his neck went so stiff they would surely be sore tomorrow. Mitch's piercing stare went straight through him, and he felt like his life lay in those soft tattooed hands he had held in his so often. "You did nothing wrong," he repeated, his voice soft this time, calming. Scott instantly felt his heart slowing down, only to pick right back up again when Mitch stepped toward him and put his hand on his cheek, his thumb caressing his cheekbone. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" He lowered his hand to turn back to the mirror, the sudden lack of touch helping Scott remember how to move. He caught his wrist right as Mitch broke eye contact.

"I want to know now," he whispered, not even trying to make his voice come back, not even caring that he sounded weak and small and hurt, so completely opposite from how he would normally. Mitch glanced at the large hand still circling his wrist and then looked at him again with sadness in his eyes, and Scott let him go, scared to have hurt him, scared to push him too far again. He pulled his hand back, shoving his fists into his pockets to stop his impulse to fold himself around his best friend and not let him go until that sadness was gone. The corners of Mitch's mouth lifted ever so slightly, and Scott was sure he would've been the only one noticing it happening at all even if they had been in a room full of people all focusing on the beautiful person in front of him.

"Okay," Mitch murmured, "okay." He cast his eyes down, shifting from one foot to the other and sighing deeply a couple of times. Scott quietly stared at him, trying to control himself, trying to give Mitch as much space as he could, but it was unbearable to see him sad and insecure and Scott clenched his jaw so hard he was sure he would break his teeth any second now. "It's not a game to me. Not anymore." His voice was low, nothing more than a whisper now, yet it was the clearest thing Scott had ever heard. "Not since Singapore." He forced himself to be quiet, to wait, to let Mitch spill everything he needed to spill, but Mitch started trembling now and Scott saw how hard he tried not to, and the crack in his heart started bleeding, and he didn't know what to do, which way to go. "I thought I could deal with it. I thought it would go away. But it's not going away and I'm sorry –"

"No," Scott interjected, much more harshly than he intended, but he was trying to hold himself back and he was starting to break, and it wouldn't be long until the walls keeping him together would crumble down all together, and Mitch's eyes shot back up to him and hit him like daggers. "Don't be sorry. Please," he begged, and with a slight nod he tried to encourage the now fragile looking creature in front of him whose eyes wouldn't stop breaking his walls away brick by brick to continue.

"I know it's not real. It's a game to you. We were playing a game. And I don't want to play anymore. I don't want to pretend anymore." Each word sunk in slowly. Understanding metaphors had never been his strongest suit, but he could read between Mitch's lines seamlessly, as he could read every single twitch of his eyebrows, of the corners of his mouth, the stance of his jaw – he knew this boy inside and out and it had never terrified him as much as it did right now. He tried to swallow but accidentally gasped for air instead, trying not to choke on the words stuck in his throat.

"I didn't know." He forced the words out of his mouth. "I never meant to hurt you." He held Mitch's eyes, which seemed relieved yet heartbroken, and Scott couldn't do it anymore. He moved forward and wrapped him in a hug, his fingers grasping at Mitch's back, his neck bending uncomfortably so he could lay his head in the curve of Mitch's neck and suddenly the alcohol rushed back to his brain and he felt himself burst out of the walls surrounding him, his sobs coming from the pit of his stomach, his lungs heaving and the drought of his eyes and mouth now overcompensated. Mitch didn't seem to respond. Scott felt Mitch's delicate arms wrap around his waist, but there was no shushing, no crying, nothing. He wondered if Mitch had cried by himself so much that he hadn't any tears left, and the thought of Mitch being sad and heartbroken without him knowing made Scott's knees buckle, only catching himself just in time before he would've fallen and taken Mitch down with him.

He managed to untangle himself and pull back just a little so he could look into Mitch's eyes and found them to be void of tears, as he had expected. But they weren't empty – far from it, in fact. He could see the confusion, and the pain, and the relief all wrapped up in those big brown circles even with his vision blurry from his own tears.

"I'm sorry," Mitch repeated, his mouth so close that his breath caressed Scott's chin, and Scott shook his head, Mitch's closeness now calming him down, his thoughts no longer a jumbled up mess but clearing up, bringing themselves in order. He was able to let him go just a little bit more, their bodies no longer flushed together but his arms still around Mitch's neck, and Mitch's hands still on his hips as if they were dancing.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize what we were doing was hurting you," Scott started, finding his voice more and more with every word. "I'm sorry I pushed you. And I'm sorry I'm pushing you now." He swallowed and tried to catch his breath, when Mitch let go of his hips and moved his hands to cup his face, wiping away some of the stray tears and then, finally, burying his head into Scott's neck.

He felt Mitch grip onto him like he was an anchor, something to keep him grounded, and he felt his desperation more and more until Scott wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his body into his own, his trembling being coming to a halt under Scott's touch, and Scott turned his head to press a kiss onto his head when he felt Mitch still. Scott closed his eyes, breathed in Mitch's scent, and the pieces of his heart started mending back together when he felt Mitch's fingers scratch softly through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

They were going to be okay.


End file.
